She brought some coffee and home baked bread to the table, then sat down.”
–Patrick Lindsay (Chance Reilly)
“Say, it’s good to be back home again…” What’s the matter Pard, yuh don’t like the song? The song’s fine, it’s just my croonin’? I’ll have yuh know that I sound pretty good to my ownself. Maybe it’s just yur hearin’. If’n yuh would join in with me, yuh might not be hearin’ so bad. Oh, yuh don’t sing in polite company. Ha–I reckon not.
Well, if’n yuh ain’t gonna sing, grab yuh a cup an’ I’ll do the pourin’. Good to be makin’ my own coffee. The trip was good, most usually is when visitin’ loved ones, but always nice to be back at the little cottage in the woods, sittin’ and ponderin’ and drinkin’ good coffee. I’ll have to give credit where credit’s due; the coffee on the trip was above average. I don’t know what type they use, but the hotel coffee wasn’t all that bad. Not that I’d want it everyday, now yuh hear, but it was drinkable.
Yep, always good to be back home. Just a comfortable feelin’. There’s somethin’ rich ’bout home. Like that ol’ boy, Chance, he was a rich man. My goodness, a wonderful wife makin’ an’ brinin’ him bread, pourin’ him a fresh cup of coffee, and sittin’ down, sorta comfortable like with him. Now, I’d say that’s riches. Plus, it’s always good to be a-jawin’ with you. Mmm, homemade bread, maybe some butter, an’ some plum jelly rubbed on it. Mighty good, better than fish eggs packed in a jar. An’ one more thing I’ll be a-tellin’ yuh, it was made with pure love from her heart. Now yuh jist can’t be beatin’ that.
But hold on, Pard! No, go ahead, yuh can be a-drinkin’ whilst I’m a-talkin’. We have to not get too cozy with this ol’ world. We ain’t stayin’ in it for all that long, ‘specially in the light of eternity. Come on, Pard, sing with me: “This world’s not my home, I’m just a passin’ through…” We have to be rememberin’ that we’re only pilgrims travelin’ through this wearisome land. Why even the riches of a home here below, won’t be a-comparin’ to our heavenly home that’s bright and fair. So, Pard, no matter how good the vittles are, how strong and delectable the coffee is, no matter how warm an’ secure yur feelin’ in yur home’; it ain’t yur final home. Yuh know, the hammerin’ stopped up yonder in glory, the good Lord, I expect is gettin’ the final touches ready on our home up there. Yuh be lookin’ up in the sky, for He’s a-comin’ back for His saints.
Pard, an’ don’t be like some of those who give dates for His comin’, or don’t be one of the other crowd that says, He ain’t comin’ back. Why to be like them would be like not checkin’ yur cinch when yuh mount up. Pard, in these days of turmoil, enjoy the blessin’s of the Lord, but keep your eyes on the horizon, for He’s sure to be comin’ soon.
Vaya con Dios.